


Cold hands, warm tea

by Salamandersickfic



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cad has a fever, Caduceus stop wandering around the garden and go to bed, Caretaking, Fever, Fjord has a concern, Fluff, Getting Together, Healing the healer, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Sneezing, and a crush, getting domestic in the Xhorhaus, romantic tea making and caretaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamandersickfic/pseuds/Salamandersickfic
Summary: What Fjord would like to do, when Caduceus sniffles again and rubs his eyes in sleepy discomfort, is to bring him to bed and lay with him until the shivers ease. To give him the same warmth Fjord had received from him when Uk’Otoa’s nightmares raged. Fjord hadn’t felt shy then, but he feels shy now. So instead opens another bottle of ale and deals the cards.(aka the softest Fjorclay sickfic nobody asked for.)
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 5
Kudos: 185





	Cold hands, warm tea

It’s still strange to have a home to call their own. Strange, but nice. Their own sitting room where they can drink as much as they want, as late as they want, without the intrusion of strangers. Caduceus’ cooking is better than their usual fare on the road. Fjord likes that he can take his boots off and armour off and feel as safe as he ever feels. 

It’s late. The fire is low, the lamps are lit and the remains of dinner on the dining room table have been pushed aside for a game of cards. The only real early bird of the group is Caduceus, who has long since turned in. Caleb is in his room with a book, Jester is in her room with the Traveller. That leaves Beau, Yasha, Fjord and Nott around the table with some time on their hands, for once, and a lot of shit to talk. 

This suits Fjord just fine. He needs a distraction from the changes in his life, something to occupy his thoughts from the Wildmother, and from Caduceus. When he’s giving as good as he gets with Beau, he’s less likely to ask a stupid, revealing question like, _“Have you ever been in love? How did you know?”_

They glance up as one when they hear feet on the stairs- a distinctive tread that speaks of a heavy frame that moves lightly. Fjord knows it intimately and looks up with a smile as Beau calls “Caduceus, that you?” 

“Yeah, it's me.”   
  
The firbolg’s voice is deeper than usual and soft. Fjord feels his heart warm at the sound of it. It is a voice that always brings kindness. 

It is unusual to see Caduceus wearing more than a light jacket over his silk shirt. Right now he is wearing a blanket from his room around his shoulders like a shawl, gathered in one fist around him although it’s barely cold in the house. His long hair is loose and mussed, making an untidy, rose-coloured halo. 

“I'm not disturbing anything, am I?” Caduceus asks, ever polite. 

“Not at all. What are you doing up?” Yasha inquires.

The firbolg sighs and sits down on the remaining empty chair. “I'm having a hard time sleeping. I think I might be getting sick.”

Before Fjord can query, the firbolg draws a deep, unsteady breath and gifts them with an expression that is uncharacteristically uncertain- brows lifted, lips parted and gaze hovering near the ceiling- followed by a soft miserable sneeze. He directs it over his shoulder and returns his attention to them with a sheepish sniffle.

This earns a “Whoah, alright, we believed you already,” from Beau and a “gesundheit” from Nott. 

Fjord rises and comes to look at him, arm on his shoulder. “What kind of sick, 'Duceus?”

“I don't know, it doesn't matter. I just thought some company would be better than lieing in bed awake.”

“Why don’t you ask Jester for some healing?”

Caduceus wrinkles his nose. “Oh, no need to interrupt her tonight. I’ll see if it develops into anything."

“You sound shitty.” Beau pats the firbolg firmly on the back- a little too firmly, since it makes Caduceus start and cough. This is high sympathy and affection coming from her, and they all know it.

It makes Caduceus smile at least. With his blanket shawl and his long limbs tucked into the slightly too-small chair, he looks worn and sleepy. Fjord watches him shiver, swallow, wince as though his throat is sore. Then Fjord feels like a creeper for watching so closely. It’s been getting increasingly hard not to stare at their companion, no matter what state he’s in. 

“This is medicinal.” Nott holds out her flask of liquor. “And it’ll knock you right out. Best thing if you can’t sleep.” 

“No thanks.” Caduceus shakes his head, predictably. “Maybe just some water.”

That Fjord can do. He manages not to leap to fetch it, but he’s glad he’s the one who moves first because that means he’s the one who gets to brush his fingers against Caduceus’ as he passes the glass, he’s the one who gets “thanks, Fjord,” and a grateful smile directed his way.

What he’d like to do, when Caduceus sniffles again and rubs his eyes in sleepy discomfort, is to bring him to bed and lay with him until the shivers ease. To give him the same warmth Fjord had received from him when Uk’Otoa’s nightmares raged. Fjord hadn’t felt shy then, but he feels shy now. So instead opens another bottle of ale and deals the cards between himself, Nott and Beau while Yasha chats to Caduceus.  
  
Eventually Caduceus clears his throat. “Think I’m going to turn in now. Thanks for the company.”

“Sleep well,” Yasha says. 

  
Fjord ads, “Night, ‘Deuces. I, uh, hope you feel better.” 

“Hah. Me too."

………………….  
  


Fjord pauses at the door of Caduceus' dwelling, straining his ears for sounds of movement. He doesn't want to wake his friend if Caduceus has managed to drift to sleep. 

Jester, in full cleric mode, has already come and gone this morning, having given Caduceus a healing spell, a potion and a plate of cookies which remain uneaten. Fjord recalls her face scrunched in a pout of disappointment that her spell didn't immediately return to their friend to fighting fitness .She reported that his fever is down from blazing to merely uncomfortable, leaving him drowsy and restless 

"And I was gonna sit with him and read, and sing to him and stuff, but I could tell he didn't actually want me too. He's just suuuper tired right now so if you go see him you gotta be quiet," she told Fjord, eyes serious. "He might like to see you though, you could talk about Wildmother stuff."

"I think I can manage that." Fjord agreed. "If he gets worse, I'll definitely let you know."

So here he is, feeling a little awkward hovering on the threshold of Caduceus' bedchamber.

Fjord has been spending a lot of time in the tower garden but has never had cause to step into the little wooden shelter Caduceus prefers to an actual bedroom in the house. He doesn't want to invade his friend's privacy, but is desperately curious nonetheless. He wants to know everything about Caduceus. 

He knocks very gently and waits for a response.

"Hey." A soft voice and the sound of a body rolling over. 

"Don't get up-" Fjord begins, but the door opens for him.

Caduceus Clay greets Fjord with a pleased smile that is at odds with the gaunt look of his face. Fjord's not sure how someone with fur can be pale, but Clay has managed it, with the exception of a flush of colour high on his cheekbones. His eyes are over-bright and his poor nose looks chapped and sore from rubbing. 

"Fjord!" Caduceus says fondly. "What can I do for you?"

That selfless, innocent question is so utterly _Caduceus_ that Fjord is stopped in his tracks. It's a lucky thing because when Caduceus wavers, suddenly lightheaded, Fjord is right there to catch him with both arms and bring him in for a hug which is more about keeping him upright.

  
"Whoah!" Fjord stumbles and swears, straightening them both. "I got you"

The Firbolg takes his own weight back but doesn't disengage from the embrace. His head drops to Fjord's shoulder as he takes a deep breath. The warm huff of air makes Fjord shiver. 

"Oh- sorry- think I stood up too quickly."  
  
"Looks like it." Fjord agrees. "Fuck. Come on, sit down." 

The firbolg has only a low futon mattress on the wooden floor, as simple and spare as the rest of the room. The rest of the space is filled with the pots containing seedlings he had determined required a little extra nursing- a sentiment that today describes Caduceus himself. Fjord lowers them both onto it and turns to give his companion a closer look.

He pushes the firbolg's hair from his face and feels fever heat radiating through his fingers and where their bodies touch. Jester's right, he's not in any danger, but he looks _miserable,_ an expression so unfamiliar on his good-natured face that all Fjord can do is hug him again. 

"Mm. S'nice." 

It's more than nice. Fjord closes his eyes, breathing in Caduceus' scent and savouring the moment. They rest in the embrace for a long minute until Caduceus sniffles softly and first and then more insistently.

"Uh oh.." he murmurs, pressing a hand under his muzzle.

"You okay?" Fjord queries.

"Yeah- just-" His expression goes vague and then crumples into a fit of sneezing.

All Fjord can do is watch and feel the tug on his heartstrings as Caduceus sneezes and sneezes, shuddering hard as he smothers them into his elbow.

He surfaces, apparently finished, and manages to murmur a "ugh, scuse me-" before he is overtaken again. 

He gives Fjord a sheepish look over the handkerchief followed by an exhausted groan.

"I'm so sorry. Looks like Jester's spell is _-snf-_ wearing off."

"Bless you." Fjord sighs. "You sound rough."

"Yeah." Caduceus agrees softly. That's typical Caduceus, too, neither dissembling nor seeking sympathy, merely accepting the fact. 

"Can I do anything?" 

"Hmm, I don't know." He shakes his head. "I can't think." 

"What about some tea? You always drink tea." 

His ears perk up a little as he considers. "Yeah. Good idea. I- I might need you to heat the water. I don't have any spells in me at the moment."

Fjord agrees at once. He notices Caduceus' tea set and kettle on a little stand but without any means to set a fire underneath. Fjord doesn't have any warming spell himself so he takes the kettle down to the kitchen to heat it the old fashioned way.

When he returns he is surprised to find his friend wandering the garden. He has put on a knitted sweater but his hunched posture still speaks of chill.

"'Duceus?"

"Hey." And a smile.

"What are you doing up?"

The firbolg clearly needs a second to think, visibly reaching through the fog of fever. "Getting some herbs. For the tea." 

"Oh. Can't I do that for you?" 

Caduceus nods vaguely. "Got to get the right ones. For healing. I'll get them. I'll teach you for next time."

  
Something irrational in Fjord's chest says _there won't be a next time, because I'm never gonna let you get sick again._ He doesn't know how he'd manage that, of course, but the sentiment remains. That said, it might be good to learn some healing herbs. If nothing else it'll give him a reason to spend more time up here.

Caduceus turns away from his harvesting to sneeze weakly into his cupped palms. He finishes with a whole-body shudder that makes his teeth chatter with cold.

"You should be in bed." 

Thank the Wildmother, Caduceus doesn't argue the point but gathers the handful of leaves into his palm and looks towards his room. "Yes. Yeah. Sorry, I got- distracted- there."  
  
"It's okay. Come back inside and we'll make that tea." 

Fjord loops his arm around the firbolg's waist to lead him back. He feels Caduceus lean on him in a way that suggests dizziness or maybe just fatigue. He feels the heat bleeding through the layers of their clothes. If it's making Fjord uncomfortable from the contact then Caduceus himself must be miserable with it, even if he's currently in a shivering phase. 

Fjord adds the herbs to the teapot, while Caduceus seems very glad to settle on the bed once more. He collapses all the way down and curls in on himself as he shakes with chills. Even with his hands in his armpits and his legs tucked up like a child's, he can't seem to get warm. Fjord pulls the blankets around him and that helps a little, but he still lets out a soft whine as a wave of chills passes over him. 

It just about breaks Fjord's heart. He goes to sit on the bed as if drawn by a tether, his arms going to Caduceus' back and rubbing heat into him through the blankets. 

"Hey. Hey. It's okay. What do you need?"

"M'okay. M'just cold." 

"The tea's ready. Can you sit up and drink some?"

Caduceus Clay and his family make tea not exactly for a living, but as a byproduct of their profession and their faith. Under normal circumstances Fjord would never dare to make a cup for him, but these are far from normal circumstances. It's not that he thinks Clay would judge his tea-making, exactly, but he wants so badly for the firbolg to think well of him. 

It seems unlikely that Caduceus can taste anything at all right now. He sits with his back leaning against the wall and their thighs touching on the bed. He holds the cup under his nose and breathes the stream. He has to pause between sips to scrub the heel of his hand underneath his muzzle. It doesn't seem to be helping much. 

Eventually he drains the rest of the tea and slumps tiredly to one side. This leaves him with his head leaning heavy against Fjord's shoulder. 

"Is that okay?" 

"Of course it's okay." Fjord soothes. He can feel the fever heat from the firbolg's brow and the back of his neck as he shivers. It's not unpleasant, he just wishes he could will it away. What he can do is reach his hands around and smooth the back of his fingers against the firbolg's cheek. He hopes for it to be soothing but his friend jumps in his arms, pulling away with a soft whine. 

"Sorry! Sorry!" 

"Your hands are c-cold."

"They're really not." Fjord sighs. "Come on. Lie down again now." 

With a little hauling and shifting of blankets he is able to settle Caduceus back on the mattress. It's not that 'Duceus is resisting, he's just lax with fever, and seven feet of Firbolg is a lot to manhandle. It's worth the effort to see him sigh in relief, even if it is punctuated with sniffles as he rolls over to bury his face in the pillows. 

Fjord steps back for a moment and takes stock of his patient. Caduceus lies on his belly, smothered by blankets that are not too thick to hide the occasional shudder running through his form. All that beautiful hair is vibrantly, ridiculously pink against the white cotton, tangled from all the commotion. His ears peek out from the strands, low against his head in misery. 

Another set of sniffles from within the covers, then an uneasy " _uh oh_ -" heralding another sneeze.

"Fuck…" Fjord sighs, and tries not to listen as the firbolg blows his nose. 

"Ugh, I'm sorry Fjord. I'm no good to anyone like this." 

That's the last straw for Fjord's beleaguered heart.

Before he knows what he is doing, he finds himself crawling the length of the mattress and gathering the firbolg into his arms. There is a rush of heat and sweat from the lifted blankets but it is more than worth it to get Caduceus' head cradled against his chest, the weight of his body draped slack across Fjord's legs and curling into the warmth of him with another shiver. 

It feels so Goddamn good that Fjord's chest gets tight. 

Caduceus has gone very still. The shivers stop as their shared body heat blossoms under the blankets.

"This is… new" He says tentatively.   
  
"But good, right?" 

"Yeah. It's nice. It helps a lot, actually. I think I needed a hug." 

Of course he does. Caduceus has always been tactile, ever ready with a hug and a kind hand. He never pushes it on anyone else, meaning that Jester gets the bulk of his physical affection. He grew up a big family and then has been alone for a long, long time. No wonder he craves a little comfort when he's not feeling good. Fjord feels like an ass for not recognising it before. 

In a bid to make up for lost time, Fjord presses a kiss to the crown of his forehead. Caduceus shivers again, but perhaps not with cold.

Inevitably, Caduceus’ sickness intervenes again, lest they forget what had brought them together this way. 

"Uh, Fjord…" 

Fjord has seen this cycle enough times to correctly interpret that hazy, ticklish squint and groping hand. He passes a clean hankie just in time for Caduceus to tuck it over his muzzle and shiver a soft, miserable " _isSShoo!"_

He can feel Caduceus shudder with it, feel how much it takes out of him in this fevered state. 

The firbolg recovers more slowly now and his eyes remain unfocused. Gods, his pupils are like coins. 

“I think my fever’s up again.” Caduceus adds helpfully.

Fjord snorts. He may not be a healer but the heat radiating from the firbolg's skin is like sitting beside a brazier.

"Shall I call Jester?" There must be more magic they can pour at this problem, surely?

"Needs to save her spells. In case something happens." Caduceus explains. "She's coming this evening."

"Okay." Fjord doesn't like that much but apparently there is nothing to be done. Caduceus is selfless but he isn't a martyr or a fool. If he says there's no quick cure, Fjord believes him. It just really fucking sucks. 

He wishes he had picked up some healing magic along the way, but that wasn't what his patron had in mind, so he does what he knows how to do. 

That involves a cold cloth for the firbolg's brow and another to wipe down his neck and chest. Plenty of water to drink and another cup of tea, cold this time.

Caduceus lies placidly through all of this, a ghost of a smile on his lips in spite of it all. How he remains so good-natured, Fjord will never know. 

Fjord considers leaving him to get some sleep, but when he makes the suggestion Caduceus manages a very good impression of a wounded puppy even as he says, "Oh. Sure."

So they end up together in the bed again. 

Caduceus is far too warm to snuggle in, but he lies on the mattress with his head resting on Fjord's arm so that the half-orc can smooth his sweaty hair back from his neck. It's almost perfect. Almost wonderful. It's been a long time since Fjord has lain with anyone like this. He watches the Firbolgs eyes weigh shut with a deep tenderness he hardly knew he was capable of, and presses another kiss to that burning brow. 

"You comfy? As you can be?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I-" Caduceus raises his head, looking up at Fjord with big pupils, fever flushed cheeks and a peculiar determination. Looks like Caduceus is steeling himself for something. 

" 'm far too loopy to think now." The firbolg begins, placing each word as if he has to retrieve them individually from the fog of fever and they lay them out before him. "But this is really nice. We should do this again...so I can… enjoy it properly." 

A long speech from someone hazy and half-asleep. Fjord feels his lips tilt into a delighted, probably goofy, grin. He is very glad Caduceus can't see it from this position.

"Yeah. I'd like that too." 

No reply this time. Caduceus Clay is asleep and snoring softly on his chest, and Fjord couldn't be happier.


End file.
